


tongues on electric sockets

by ElasticElla



Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Welcome to Night Vale Setting, Background Relationships, M/M, Minor Character Death, Non-Linear Narrative, Podfic Available, Soft Horror
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-02
Updated: 2018-05-02
Packaged: 2019-05-01 05:47:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14513859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElasticElla/pseuds/ElasticElla
Summary: It’s been not-raining over the dog park for eight weeks now. All of the council members say to ignore it, the unknown will fix it when they deign to.





	tongues on electric sockets

**Author's Note:**

> writers discord prompt (and title derived from) fob's golden
> 
> another jumpy one, hopefully it works and isn't nonsense ajgi;erjg;e
> 
> *now with a fantastic podfic [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15320628)

It’s been not-raining over the dog park for eight weeks now. All of the council members say to ignore it, the unknown will fix it when they deign to. 

Ryan didn’t become the mayor to just let things maybe fix themselves. (Ryan didn’t become the mayor at all.) He wanted to help, and with that firmly in mind, he steps into the most terrifying place in existence- park gates swinging open deceptively smooth. 

.

There’s a monster or a god, or perhaps both or something else entirely beneath the orange trees. Its teeth gleam through the darkness, don’t even seem to exist. 

It isn’t a hooded figure, but it wears a hood and is indeed a figure.

No one else has seen it. 

Ryan doesn’t want to believe in it. 

(One must be grateful for beliefs.) 

. 

“C’mon really,” Ryan asks, nudging Shane’s knee with his own. “what do you wanna do?” 

Shane shrugs, a light smile on his lips. “I like learning, and that’s all I’ve been doing since I dropped the mayor gig. No offense.” 

Ryan laughs, a bit painfully at the truth. It does feel like everyone tries to keep him in the dark sometimes, as if he could possibly do his job better in near ignorance. 

“Will it make you happy?” Ryan asks. 

Shane shakes his head, “I am happy.” 

A rush of warmth washes over him, and _oh_ , Ryan supposes he’s happy too. How odd. 

.

There’s a turquoise cloud raining bed sheets and blankets, and it feels like it’s supposed to be an extended metaphor about his life going to shit. 

Ryan yells at the cloud for a good thirty-two minutes. 

The precipitation pauses when he takes a deep breath at the end, a tentative smile on Ryan’s lips. 

And then a neon pink pillow thwacks him in the head, bedding falling all the faster. 

Ryan hates the weather. 

.

He meets Shane under an unforgiving moon, too bright to hide beneath. Too bright for Shane to be anyone but his own predecessor, and Ryan is so excited he forgets to ask why or how. (The questions come back later, they always do, brush against his pillow and slip into uncertain dreams.)

“You’re here! I thought all past mayors ascended, I thought you- er, I’m so happy to meet you,” Ryan stammers out, extending a hand. 

Shane clasps his hand, “There will be no more angels.” 

Ryan’s eyes go wide, hasn’t heard them referred to as such ever before. (There’s no question of what a Bront or Brett or Brent or Bentley is, but to speak it-.)

“I’m sorry?” 

Shane laughs, loud and inviting. “A good thing too, any taller I imagine I wouldn’t see you at all.” 

“Any taller and the weather _would_ be different up there.” It isn’t his best joke, not nearly, the only one that comes to mind as his face burns, but Shane only laughs louder. Loud enough that the trees themselves seem to shake and Ryan falls in love. 

.

Monsters are always hungry. But there’s still greenery in the park, splashes of colors in the flowers and fruits on the trees. It isn’t decrepit like the last time a misfortune occurred. (Last time- not even salt would stay in the earth, a void on land in the truest sense.)

The question isn’t why the monster isn’t eating. The question is _what_ is the monster eating. Is it related to the recent missing interns- Ryan’s afraid so. Or is it something else entirely, something they aren’t prepared for?

(It needs to be a monster. Monsters, unlike gods or ideas or the unknown, can be defeated.)

.

“How are things coming with,” Shane pauses to dramatically gesture, “the park?” 

Ryan would laugh if it wasn’t such a problem, needs to find a solution soon. “The residents are suspicious and Helen’s show isn’t helping.” 

Shane chuckles, “Isn’t that always the case?” 

“Yeah. I think I convinced her not to send any interns to investigate? Fuck, I hope so. We can’t lose any more this year.” Ryan rubs his temples, Zack’s resident mortality chart flashing before his eyes, half-remembered and hazy, all troubling stats. 

“Death isn’t the worst fate. And surrounded by trees and fresh air- might even be peaceful,” Shane says.

“Uh huh. That how you wanna go?” 

“Haven’t you learned? I don’t go anywhere,” Shane jokes, and Ryan can’t help but laugh. A small bit of relaxation seeping into him, even as his brain tries to stop it, whispering about doom and interns and fear and bad numbers- 

Just until the sun hits the middle of the sky, just until he can think clearly again. 

.

He’s had to approve more memory wipes this week alone than his entire tenure as mayor. Ryan’s half tempted to get one for himself, as if a brand new him with less information might come up with a solution. 

He was supposed to make things better. 

Instead they’re all playing catch-up 24/7, barely keeping time with whatever entity is playing them. Tuesday didn’t exist again, and there are protesters outside his office, convinced the government decided to do away with Tuesdays this month. 

It’s better than the alternative- admitting they don’t know what happened to the days or how to get them back- and fuck, he never wanted to lie to his people. (Worse still, he knows it won’t be the last time.)

.

Ryan collapses next to Shane, bumping his shoulder on the way down. He’s missed him too much, hasn’t been able to visit like before.

Shane smirks, “Bad day at work honey?” 

Ryan groans, exaggerated but oh-so accurate. There’s a hunger beneath that makes him flush, forces himself to think of the day’s disasters instead of Shane’s mouth. “It was hailing breakfast foods for five hours. How am I supposed to fix that?” 

“Break out the paper plates?” 

Ryan snorts, “Old Farmer Howard claimed to be allergic to flying waffles and demanded sanctuary in my office.” 

Shane wriggles his eyebrows, “Oh yeah, I bet he wanted a slice of that sweet, sweet sanctuary.” 

“Ew.” 

Shane keeps wriggling his damn eyebrows, and Ryan grabs a nearby pancake and lobs it at him. 

“Really Ry?” Shane asks, doesn’t wait for an answer before returning fire with all the fallen food within arm’s reach. 

(The maple syrup might take two showers to get out of his hair, but it’s so worth it.)

.

The one that is no longer Shane, that perhaps never was, hands him an orange slice. 

“You don’t have to eat it,” he says. 

But Ryan has come too far to stop now, he needs to know- has all the answers in his palm. He’ll be able to fix everything, maybe even take Shane out of the park with him. They could start their own town, just for the two of them. 

Electricity dances over his taste-buds, the world fading to nothingness. 

.

“-so I told Eugene if they wanted to import a hundred teacup pigs, they better order teacup bacon too.” 

Ryan hates how attractive Shane is. Hates the way he’s sitting, leaning back on his hands, all casual and inviting. Like Ryan could just climb on his lap and- fuck, no, not the time or place or dimension. 

“Ryan?” 

It’s unfair really, distracting at the worst of times. At least Shane never left his space, can’t imagine what would happen if Shane showed up in his office. 

“I was thinking we could get matching hair cuts, really take our relationship to the next level. Nothing says ‘I love you’ like bowl cuts.” 

Something embarrassing. _Really_ embarrassing. He’d probably have to resign. Or like move to Desert Bluffs. Gross. 

“Or we could just get our dicks tied together.” 

Ryan’s eyes snap up, mentally rewinding through Shane’s words, “What?” 

He tsks, his grin softening any real rebuke, “Not paying attention Ry.” 

“Yeah, yeah dicks. So you love me?” 

It’s supposed to come out as a joke, but sincerity stains his words, a blush heating up his cheeks. 

Shane cocks his head to the side, as if confused. “Ryan… you’re the only one I let in here baby.” 

“Oh.” And it feels obvious now, in retrospect, his face hot for a new reason. In retrospect, it feels like they’ve been dating all this time, circling around this moment. 

“Ramping up that anticipation-”

“Ff- oh god.” 

“-what will Ryan Bergara do?” 

“Shut up Shane.” 

He winks, “Gonna make me?” 

And Ryan mentally thinks _fuck it_ , does what he’s wanted to do all evening, ever since he first started visiting Shane- clambers onto his lap and kisses him. Kisses him until Shane’s mouth tastes like an ordinary mouth, or at least until Ryan has enough knowledge to permanently alter his dreamscape. 

.  
-  
.

Helen finishes her chocolate milk, wetting her lips once more before turning the radio back on. Tonight she gets to see her favorite scientist Sara, and she’s positively giddy for their first real date that isn’t a government mandated pizza excursion or research for a story. A _real_ date. Only one more hour of radio until then, such an insignificant amount of time-

Her intern Jen is waving, gesturing to the glowing _on air_ sign, and Jen really is the best intern she’s ever had. She truly hopes the girl survives the library excursion she’ll have to go on, even better if she can find Steven. Jen’s jumping now, and Helen breathes a laugh, brings the mic closer. 

“Good evening faithful listeners. Welcome back, or welcome if your dial hasn’t stopped here before. The dog park has grown even more dangerous, reports of two deities daring to call Night Vale their home. If you can remember the dog park, you should knock on your window four times for an improved mind without such a pesky memory. Our deepest condolences to the parents of interns Adam and Andrew, without their sacrifice we would be blissfully ignorant of the possible impending danger. 

“Do these beings desire to harm us? Where do they come from, why are they here? Some say they look like lovers, others claim they can see our past mayors. New mayor Quinta assures us this is not the case, and we now go to her comments about the safety of Night Vale…”

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[podfic] tongues on electric sockets](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15320628) by [growlery](https://archiveofourown.org/users/growlery/pseuds/growlery)




End file.
